Quid Pro Quo
by UnbreakBroken
Summary: Post Red John's Footsteps. Red John doesn't take too kindly to the death of Sheriff Hardy.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for quite a while and decided to finally get off my ass and write it down. I've dabbled some in writing fanfic before but this will be the first I've actually posted. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

It was nearing ten thirty when she got the call. She had been finishing up the last of the paperwork from their previous case, a task which had grown exponentially since Jane had joined the team. She'd sent Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt home hours ago, telling them to enjoy their weekend. Jane was still asleep on his couch as far as she knew. He'd given up pestering her after she'd threatened to have said couch removed from the building.

Flipping open her cell, she mutters a curt "Lisbon."

A quick briefing from Minelli, and she's grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair as she dials Cho's cell. He answers on the second ring and she doesn't waste time with small talk.

"Red John. Four dead. Pine Grove Motel. Call Rigsby and Van Pelt. And Cho" she's silent for a moment, "they're children."

She hangs up and pockets her cell phone. With a quick check of her weapon and badge she flips off the light in her office and steps out. A brief glance confirms that Jane is where she thought he would be. She finds it strange that a man so unpredictable can be so very predictable when it comes to certain things: his couch, her morning coffee, and his infallible ability to double her paperwork.

He seems to actually be sleeping, a rare occurrence for him and she toys with the idea of heading to the scene without him. This is going to be a hard one for her and the team, she knew it the moment Minelli mentioned children, but for Jane, this will be hell. She knows she can't leave him behind though. As much as she wants to spare him the pain of seeing this, she knows he'd never forgive her for keeping it from him. Besides, it's not as if she'd be able to keep it a secret for very long. She used to think she was a pretty convincing liar, but Jane seems to see through every lie she tells.

Sighing she closes her office door and makes her way across the room to his couch. She doesn't touch him, there's no need. He's such a light sleeper that the creak of the floor boards and her shadow cast upon him by the dim light of the lamp on Van Pelt's desk are enough.

He sits up slowly, unaccustomed to actually having to wake up.

"Lisbon?" he questions, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to focus his vision.

She kneels down so she can look him in the eye. "We've got a case. Red John." Those two words are all it takes to erase the sleepiness in his gaze. She's barely standing before he's off the couch and shrugging into his jacket. He's already making his way to the elevator when she catches up to him and takes hold of his arm, momentarily halting his progress.

He turns to look at her, eyes haunted as if he already knows. It's times like this when she really does wonder if he's psychic.

"They're children, Jane. I'm sorry." She hasn't released her grip on his arm and she gives a gentle squeeze, a fairly empty gesture given the circumstances. He nods, and she watches as his eyes harden and the mask slips back into place.

* * *

The hour long drive passes in silence. Once seated in the passenger seat and buckled, Jane doesn't move an inch. There's no small talk, no magic tricks, no pestering. He doesn't even turn the radio on and constantly fiddle with the knob as he usually does. Traffic is quiet, nearly non-existent once they reach the edge of town. Only the SUV's headlights and the occasional reflective sign manage to penetrate the darkness. Gone is the sunny Californian day, the moon is invisible, hidden behind the clouds and a steady torrent of rain lashes at the vehicle from all directions.

The Pine Grove Motel is a small establishment, one of those rundown, hole in the wall type places. A cheap plastic table is missing a leg and the chairs that surround it look like they've seen better days. Half the hoof is missing shingles, numerous windows are boarded up, and the parking lot is littered with rusty old farm equipment.

Among an old tractor, a pile of used tires, and overturned garbage bins are multiple police cruisers with their lights flashing, a few cars and another black SUV identical to the one she is driving.

Hopping out she detaches her badge from her belt and shows it to the guard who lifts the tape to allow her and Jane to pass. Ducking out of the rain into the slight shelter of the motels overhang, Rigsby greets her with a simple "Boss." Cho and Van Pelt both nod their acknowledgment.

She then turns to address the sheriff, a gruff old man that looks like he's seen his fair share of death over the years. "Has anyone been in yet?"

The sheriff shakes his head. "According to the motel owner, the room has been vacant for the past week. Bodies were discovered when Herb Pembry over there" he nods towards a rather robust man in a plaid shirt and overalls "checked in a couple hours ago. He ran out of the room as soon as he saw them, up chucked over there in that garbage can, before informing the motel owner, who called me. I took one look in the room, saw that damned smiley and called Minelli. No one else has been near there since, can't imagine who would want to."

"Thank you Sheriff Camplin. We'll take a quick look and then send our techs in to collect evidence."

She shakes the Sheriffs hand and he gives her a sad smile.

Taking a deep breath she turns to her team and nods before heading toward the open motel room. One look in the room and it's almost more than she can handle. She feels Jane behind her and hears his breath catch. Van Pelt catches a glimpse over her head and makes an incomprehensible noise before bolting toward the garbage cans with Rigsby following. He holds her hair, a hand on her back as she empties her stomach.

Cho stands in the doorway as she and Jane take a step inside. Straight across from the open door is Red Johns signature smiley, painted in blood. The room is trashed, and among the ruins lay the battered remains of four blond girls that can't be much older than six. Two on each bed, the white duvets soaked red. In the middle on the night table is a bright white sheet of paper. Jane steps forward between the beds to get a closer look and as much as she wants to turn and run she steps forward with him.

Printed on crisp white paper are the words:

Four little goldilocks. I do say, they hold quite the resemblance to your little girl. You'll find that together their weight will be remarkably similar to that of Sheriff Hardy.

Quid pro quo, mister Jane.

* * *

Want more? Leave a review please. :P


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that took the time to review, even a few words mean a lot. This is a short chapter, but don't worry, I've got more written. ;)

* * *

He watches her read the note for a third time. She stares at it as if sheer will alone will enable her to change the contents. Her eyes are glassy with tears that she refuses to let fall.

She turns to observe his reaction and he can't bring himself to put on his usual act. Instead he allows his shoulders to become hunched, his eyes vacant as he folds inward attempting to shield himself from what he has just witnessed. His hand falls to his side and the note that he doesn't even remember picking up, slips from his fingers, numb and unfeeling, to flutter to the ground.

He stands frozen for a moment, not moving, not blinking, barely breathing, before turning and running from the bloodied motel room.

He doesn't stop until he reaches the far edge of the parking lot. It's still raining and the late november air is surprisingly cold against his skin. He pays no attention to this discomfort, instead wholly consumed by the realization that this is his fault. Not directly, but in some sick twisted way, Red John has managed to lay the blame on him. Those four little girls are dead because of him.

The sudden urge to cause himself some small measure of physical pain arises and he crashes his fist into the unyielding bark of a nearby pine before collapsing to the damp earth, head falling against his bent knees.

Moments later he hears footsteps approaching. He doesn't look up when she says his name, his gaze remains fixed on decaying layer of pine needles at his feet. She drops to her knees beside him and says his name again, resting a hand on his arm.

Even as he leans toward her, allowing her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, he hates himself for wanting her comfort, knowing he doesn't deserve it.

She leans into him, face buried against the collar of his shirt. He hears her sniffle and feels her breath hitch. Only then does he realize how she must be feeling. She's alive because Sheriff Hardy is dead. She's alive and four little girls are dead because of it. Funny how it didn't even occur to him to blame her for this. He can't though. He doesn't regret saving her life, he simply wishes that things had played out differently.

Knowing she needs this as much as he does, he turns toward her and returns her embrace.

Pulling away, she moves to sit beside him, mirroring his position, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. This time she takes his hand and gives it a quick squeeze, releasing it quickly when she hears him gasp.

Gently cradling his hand in hers, she examines it as best she can in the dark.

"You really should get this looked at Jane, I think you broke a couple fingers."

He shrugs; the pain is a welcome relief to the numbness he is feeling.

"This isn't your fault Jane. Don't blame yourself for it. Red John is responsible for those girls in there, not you..." she hesitates "not me."

She leans into him, a chill racing though her as she becomes aware of the fact that it's still raining and they're both soaked.

"I already sent Van Pelt and Rigsby home. Cho insisted on staying to wait for the coroner and forensic team."

She stands and offers her hand, helping to pull him up. "Coroner was just arriving when I came over here, what do you say we find some dry clothes and get you a cup of tea?"

He smiles a ghost of a smile. It's not much, but tea always makes him feel better. Her company doesn't hurt either.

They're heading back to the SUV when he hears the coroner yell.

"Someone get a medic over here!"

* * *

Yes. You get a cliff-hanger. :O Don't worry though; I won't make you wait too long.

Reviews greatly appreciated as always.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: And as promised, I didn't leave you hanging off that cliff for too long. Thanks again for all the reviews!

* * *

They arrive at the hospital after breaking nearly every posted speed limit. The smallest of the four girls has somehow managed to survive Red Johns brutal attack and has been airlifted back to Sacramento.

Lisbon sits in the small waiting room outside the operating room and watches as Jane leans against the wall, refusing to take his eyes off the door. Cho sits across the room, his book open to the same page since they got here.

She taps her foot, impatient and wanting some sort of news, but all she receives is the squeak of wet rubber and the squelch of water rushing up between her toes, reminding her just how wet and miserable she is, they all are. She glances at the clock. It's after one thirty and she wants nothing more than a hot bath and her pillow.

A nurse comes in with a pile of towels and scrubs in her arms. Setting them down on the table in the center of the room, she hands a set to Cho and directs him toward an empty room to change. The nurse leaves the room again but is back in seconds, this time with an assortment of bandages and a small splint.

"Mister Jane, if you would please have a seat so I can fix that hand of yours?"

Lisbon startles as the silence is broken. No one has said a word since they left the crime scene.

She watches as Jane crosses the room to sit next to her, eyes glued to the operating room door, not even flinching when the nurse straightens and splints his broken fingers.

Cho returns and reopens his book, continuing to do nothing more than stare at the page. She goes to change while the nurse finishes up with Jane and soon they're all relatively dry, dressed in matching blue scrubs. Hers are too big of course and she has to roll them up to keep them from dragging along the ground.

The pain killers the nurse gave to Jane have left him drowsy and it's not long before he's reclining on the couch, using her lap as a pillow. It's uninvited but she doesn't say anything, glad that he trusts her enough to get some sleep. She leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes, allowing her hands to run gently through his damp hair.

* * *

She's woken from a restless sleep by the same nurse that bandaged Jane's hand earlier. She's got a horrible kink in her neck but lets the corner of her mouth lift at the sight and feel of Jane, face pressed into her stomach, arm wrapped around her lower back. She thinks that this should make her feel uncomfortable, but for some strange reason, it doesn't.

Finally shaking herself awake, she looks up at the nurse and nods for her to continue.

"The girl is out of surgery. For now. She's extremely touch and go. The doctors want to give her a few hours before attempting to repair the rest of the damage. I don't want to give false hope, but I believe there's a chance she'll make it. She's incredibly strong to have made it this far. Your crime scene techs picked up the evidence about an hour ago, so there's not much for you to do here. Go home, get some sleep." The nurse says, giving her a quick pat on the arm. "We'll call as soon as there's any change."

She nods a 'thank you' as the nurse leaves the room.

Cho seems to have progressed no further into his book and is folding up his clothes to take home.

"Cho, if you could call Van Pelt and Rigsby, let them know what happened and have them start trying to identify the girls? Then go home and get some sleep. I don't want to see you at work tomorrow."

Cho nods and leaves, the door swinging in his wake.

She figures Jane must be awake by now; no way he'd be able to sleep through the talking. Looking down, she watches as he nuzzles into her stomach and tightens his grip around her waist. She inhales quickly, shivering slightly at his touch, but starts to laugh when her stomach growls.

"Shush woman, I'm trying to sleep here." He mumbles, poking her lightly in the side.

"Did you hear what the nurse said?" She asks, squirming out of his grasp.

He nods and sits up.

She glances at the clock as her stomach growls again. It's quarter to four in the morning, nothing will be open at this time.

She stands and stretches. "Come on Jane, let's go back to my place."

He gives her an odd look and raises an eyebrow with a small smirk on his face. She rolls her eyes, glad that he's still trying to make her blush. "I'm not letting you go back to your place to sit under that damned smiley Jane, not today."

* * *

She unlocks her door and ushers him in.

"Go have a seat on the couch, I'll make something for us to eat." She tells him, noticing that he still seems to be in a haze from the pain killers.

She watches as he lies down on the couch, not even attempting to remain upright.

"Want tea, Jane?" She asks, but receives no answer. He's sprawled on her couch, fast asleep.

She quickly makes a sandwich for herself and heads out to the living room to sit on the smaller couch opposite him. He's still dead to the world when she finishes eating so she grabs a blanket off the back of the couch, gently tucking it in around him and running her hand down his stubbled cheek before heading up the stairs to her bedroom.

She changes out of the scrubs and into a baggy old t-shirt. She looks at the clock and then out the window, the sky turning yellow-grey as the sun rises. Shutting her blinds, she crawls into bed, praying for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

She wakes to an odd feeling. At first she can't place it but quickly realizes that she's being watched. Her bedroom is dark and Jane is standing in her doorway, silhouetted by the light in the hall. Looking at the clock confirms that she hasn't been asleep long.

"Can't sleep?"

He shakes his head and she takes in his appearance, unkempt and hunched with exhaustion. It worries her how little he's said since they got the call. She's not used to this Jane, quiet and brooding.

She sighs, at war with herself. Finally she speaks. "Close the door and get in here Jane, there's plenty of room for you."

He closes the door, further darkening the room and moves to stand at the side of her bed.

She flips back the covers on the empty side. "Get in Jane."

She's tired and impatient and she really just wants to go back to sleep.

He hesitates and she watches as his eyes focus on her. "Lisbon?" He questions, finally seeming to focus on his surroundings.

"It's alright Jane, come here." She pats the spot next to her and he lies down on his back, stiff and unmoving. She folds the covers back over him and moves closer.

"When I was little, before my mom died, whenever I couldn't sleep, she'd lay with me and I'd rest my head above her heart. The sound would always put me to sleep, and if I woke up, I'd still be able to hear it and know she was right there."

She tugs at his arm and he reluctantly rolls over, curling into her side, head on her chest, arm draped across her waist. She strokes his hair and whispers "Good night."

He mumbles something unintelligible against her, shifting closer and she smiles.

Inviting Jane into her bed probably isn't the smartest idea she's ever had, but right now they both need sleep, and if this helps them get it, then so be it.

* * *

A/N: And a little bit of fluff is thrown into the mix, cause well, you just gotta have fluff, you know?

It's right up there with Oxygen. In fact, if Fluff were an element on the periodic table, it would take Fluorine's place next to Oxygen. *nods*

Right. Now don't forget to review on your way out. :D


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Thanks again to everyone that's been reviewing! *hugs for all*

* * *

She wakes to a cocoon of soft blankets and a warm body. Jane seems to have claimed her as his personal body pillow. His head is still on her chest, but he's shifted so that he now covers the majority of her body. Both arms wrap around her, holding her to him and one of his legs has been thrown over one of hers and wedged between them. It's all faintly sexual.

Again she thinks she should be uncomfortable, hell she should be freaking out. She should push him off of her and run away. Instead she wraps her arms tighter around him, one hand coming up to run through his curls. She'll never admit it to him, but she's been wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair since the day he walked into her office.

Late afternoon sun shines through her curtains and she looks at the clock. Amazingly they both managed almost 10 hours of sleep. Somehow she doubts that Jane ever gets more than a couple hours at a time. He looks so peaceful right now, hair golden, features relaxed. She hates to wake him up but she needs to check in with Van Pelt and Rigsby before stopping by the hospital. Besides, she figures he'll want to accompany her.

She stretches underneath him; arching catlike, figuring movement will wake him up.

It does the trick and he shifts to his side, pulling her with him, tight against his chest.

"You're a good pillow, Lisbon." He whispers before placing a light kiss to her forehead, releasing her and rolling out of her bed.

Stunned, she lays there for a moment before swinging her legs off the bed and heading into the bathroom to shower.

* * *

She wanders into her kitchen, not expecting Jane to be standing there ready to hand her a cup of coffee. She figures he'd be long gone. She stands there trying to figure out why he's still here, and when he pushes the cup of coffee into her waiting hands, she remembers that she was his ride.

She sits down at the table and notices that he has plates set out and the frying pan is sitting on the stove. She also notices that he's back in his suit and it doesn't look at all like the wet, muddy mess he had on last night.

She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off.

"Yes, I'm making you breakfast, or dinner rather. It's the least I can do. And I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of using your washer and dryer last night to get this clean." He gestures to his suit and grins, his mask back in place.

She'll let him hide behind the smile and the suit for now, but despite the rather convincing act he puts on, she knows he's not fine. Last night assured her of that. She's never seen him that lost, that broken. She's always known it was there and that he hid it well, she just never knew how well.

"Any time, Jane. I mean that." She says. And they both know she's not just talking about the use of her washer and dryer.

* * *

A quick stop by the CBI proves pointless. Rigsby and Van Pelt haven't been able to ID any of the girls and the crime scene techs haven't come up with anything useful, not that this is a surprise; it is a Red John case after all.

Arriving at the hospital, they head to the admin desk and she has to resort to waving her badge before she can get any information. The nurse reluctantly complies, telling her that the girl made it through the second round of surgery and has been moved to a private room in the ICU.

After getting the room number and directions from the nurse, she turns to find Jane has disappeared.

Just as she's considering buying a leash for him, she notices him coming out of the gift shop, fuzzy white elephant in hand.

He smiles and she returns it, turning to lead the way.

The room is easy to find once they reach the correct wing. The guard outside the door waves them in and tells them the doctor will be by shortly.

She sits down in one of the spare chairs and watches as Jane sets the elephant next to the girl, before taking the empty chair next to her.

She reaches over and gives his uninjured hand a squeeze. She intends for it to be a quick gesture but he doesn't release her hand so she leaves hers where it is, trying to ignore the fact that to any outsider they must look like this child's parents, anxiously awaiting news.

Stillness overtakes the room, the only sound, the steady beeping of machines. His thumb brushes lazily across her knuckles lulling her into a semi conscious state, so calm that she nearly jumps when the door opens and a female doctor walks in.

The doctor introduces herself as Lindsay Stanson and shakes both of their hands, sliding a chair over and seating herself across from them.

"I don't suppose you've been able to ID her yet, have you?"

"No, not yet. We've had agents at it all day but no matching missing person reports have been filed in the area. If we could get a copy of her dental scan it may be helpful."

The doctor opens the file and hands her a folder. "I've got it right here, along her tox screen results and a detailed account of her injuries. I'll cover them briefly with you now."

She takes the folder, laying it open between her and Jane and nods for the doctor to continue.

"Her tox screen shows significant traces of an animal tranquilizer called Acepromazine, hopefully meaning that she was unconscious during her attack. She was stabbed three times, two perforating her small intestine, the other severely damaging her left kidney. It took us multiple operations to repair her intestines and we were forced to remove the kidney. There was also a sizable cut on her neck which I assume was intended to sever her jugular, it nearly did too, just a little deeper and she wouldn't be here with us now. We've got her heavily medicated at the moment, hoping to avoid infection, so she'll be out of it for the next couple days. You're welcome to sit with her though, and don't be afraid to talk to her, she could use some friendly company."

The doctor shakes their hands again and leaves the room.

Jane turns to her frowning. "Red John doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't accidentally leave his victims half alive." He stands abruptly, pacing. Just a few steps in each direction. "Either he's toying with us, or he got interrupted and actually made a mistake. Has it been reported that all four were found dead? Because if he meant to kill them, there's a chance that this little girl may have seen his face."

She nods. "Papers reported this morning that all four were found dead. I'll increase security on the room just in case. I'm going to get these back to Van Pelt and Rigsby, hopefully they can get us an ID on her. You going to stay here?"

He nods and pulls his chair closer to the bed.

"I'll be back in a little while Jane, try to stay out of trouble."

He grins at her but she can see that his mask isn't quite in place. The presence of this little girl, all wrapped in bandages has left his facade cracked and askew.

* * *

A/N: *gasp* Did Red John actually make a mistake?!?

You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? :P

Reviews are like cookies, you can never have too many! :D


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Thanks yet again for the many reviews. I'm glad to hear that you all think they're staying in character. Jane and Lisbon are so very hard to write. I've gone for a light-hearted approach on this one, but no worries, next chapter will be angst filled for all you angst lovers. :P

* * *

He's half asleep, leaning against the hospital bed, one arm cradling his head, the other outstretched to hold the little girls hand loosely in his own. Noises outside the door bring him fully awake and he lifts his head, laying it back down when he realizes it's just Lisbon talking to the nurse.

He can hear them faintly over the beeping of machines if he listens carefully. Their voices are muffled by the door but he can hear the nurse expressing concern for him, telling Lisbon how he refused to leave the room all day and insists that she force him to go home and get some proper rest or she'll call security up to drag him out.

He doesn't need to see it to know that Lisbon just rolled her eyes; he hears the sighing exhalation that always accompanies her eye rolls and smiles to himself.

He hears her ask if he caused any other trouble and he laughs quietly, feigning sleep when she enters the room, gently closing the door behind her.

The lights are out in the room and the sun set hours ago. Only the light from the hall shines through the blinds that cover the glass door to illuminate the room. He listens to her shift about the room, moving a chair to sit next to him and has to fight a smile when she ruffles his hair and softly calls his name.

He turns his head toward her, smiling inwardly at her hand still playing with his hair. "I suppose visiting hours are over?" He questions.

"Hours ago, I'm surprised they didn't throw you out of here earlier."

He sits up and her hand falls back to her lap. "Nah, the nurses like me, despite what they might say."

"Right." And there's the eye roll again. "Well they're about to send security up to get you out of here so we had better get going. Car's out front, I'll update you on the way."

"On the way? My, my Lisbon, are you taking me home with you again?" He teases, grinning devilishly as she blushes.

"Shut up Jane, or I'll leave you here and let security deal with you."

"You wouldn't." He points out, still grinning.

"Watch me, Jane. This is me leaving without you." She grabs her discarded jacket and is out of the room before he can even stand up.

He straightens the chairs and gives the little girl a kiss on the forehead, murmuring a hushed "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nods to the nurses as he exits the room and isn't at all surprised to find Lisbon waiting for him in the SUV when he exits the lobby.

He climbs into the passenger seat and grins at her. "Couldn't leave without me, huh?"

"Seriously, Jane. I -will- shoot you."

He chuckles once more and decides to behave himself for the rest of the drive home. Home. Now he's got himself wondering how one night spent in her bed has him referring to her place as home. Probably because it's the best night's sleep he's had since his family was murdered.

She interrupts his train of thought by waving a hand in front of his face. "You in there, Jane?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, go ahead." He stumbles over his words, trying to clear his thoughts.

"I was saying that we managed to ID all four of the girls, took the full day and we had to broaden our search across the entire United States, but we found them. Turns out they're all orphans that have been under the care of child services. Two are from out east, Cassandra Elling from Milledgeville, Georgia and Emily Reid from Summersville, West Virginia. Other two are from up north, Tamara Andrews is from Big Horn, Wyoming and our survivor is Lyn Foster from all the way up in Whitefish, Montana."

She pauses to turn into a pizza place.

"Bastard is going to have us running all over the damned country. I guess the real question is, would you rather take the shorter trip north, or take the longer trip east?"

"I'd like to go north." It's been a long time since he's left the south. A change of scenery might be nice.

She nods. "That's what I figured. If we leave tomorrow we can make it there, get things done and make it back in a few days. Lyn needs some time to get better before we even think about questioning her anyway."

* * *

They sit on her couch watching reruns of Friends and eating pizza. She's changed into sweats and he's shed his jacket and vest. He props his feet up on the coffee table and laughs when she can't reach.

"My gun isn't that far out of reach, Jane." She grumbles and he pulls the coffee table closer for her.

She gets up one commercial and disappears up the stairs, returning moments later with a pair of plaid pyjama pants and a t-shirt in hand.

"My youngest brother left them here last time he visited; I figured they'd be more comfortable than your suit." She shrugs and hands them to him.

He smiles. "Would you mind if I used your shower?"

"Go ahead, upstairs, towels are the first door on the right, bathroom is the second."

He stands and heads toward the stairs.

"Oh and Jane, there are extra toothbrushes in the cupboard next to the sink."

* * *

He showers quickly, telling himself to behave and not to invade her privacy by snooping through drawers and cupboards. He foregoes shaving, doubting she'd appreciate him using her razor and changes quickly, hanging his towels on the back of the door. He gathers his clothes and brings them down to throw in the washer.

He walks back into the living room and sees that she's fallen asleep on the couch. Not lying down but in the exact same position he left her, the TV still on full volume. He turns the TV off and puts the remaining pizza in the fridge before returning to the couch and trying to figure out how on earth he's going to get her up to bed.

He could carry her but she'd probably kick his ass and knock them both down the stairs if she woke up. After imagining a few scenarios gone awry, he decides it's probably best to just wake her up enough that she can walk up the stairs herself.

He settles his hand gently against her arm and rubs up and down a few times.

"Lisbon, time to wake up." He whispers and she grunts, shaking her head.

"Lisbon?" No response. "Teresa?"

He watches her frown, her nose wrinkling as she opens an eye and squints at him.

"Why don't we get you upstairs? That bed's much comfier than this couch." He suggests.

She mumbles what he can only assume is an agreement, as she stands and heads for the stairs. He follows her up, a couple steps behind, not entirely sure she won't fall back down.

The bed is still unmade from the previous night and she all but falls into it, not even bothering to pull the covers over herself. He pulls the covers up and tucks them in around her, intending to head back down and sleep on the couch, but she grabs his hand, stopping him.

"Stay."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm, get in here Jane." She doesn't move or lift the covers, already close to sleep again.

He walks around the bed, sliding in the other side. Before he's even settled himself, she's rolled over, scooting across the bed and burying herself into his chest, head tucked under his chin.

He settles in and is wrapping his arms around her when he hears her groan in annoyance. At first he wonders if he's done something wrong but simply ends up chuckling when she sits up, eyes still closed as she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, quickly taking it off without removing her t-shirt.

She snuggles back in against him seconds later and mutters what sounds like 'Zebra', although he suspects it was something more along the lines of 'Stupid bra'.

* * *

*grins* Decided they needed a little banter. Can't have everything too serious all the time.

Next chapter will be filled with angsty-goodness and then we'll get back on track with the case.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: And as promised, here be angst. Enjoy!

* * *

She's woken by an elbow to the ribs and it takes her a moment to get her bearings. The first thing she notices is that she's no longer curled into Jane. She's alone on the far side of the bed without covers. Sitting up she lets her eyes adjust to the darkness.

It's then that she notices the bed is moving, the mattress dipping and creaking with every movement Jane makes. He's tangled in the sheets, fighting frantically against their confines. His face is contorted in pain, so very different from his usual smiling features. His breathing is fast and laboured and when she carefully reaches a hand over to touch his face, she notices that he's drenched in a cold sweat.

He's having a nightmare, she realizes. She's had enough of her own over the years to recognise the signs. She knows how terrifying they can be, your entire body and mind caught up, the dream becoming your reality, leaving you helpless to escape.

She carefully moves closer to him, trying to avoid his thrashing limbs. She needs to get close enough to talk to him, to wake him.

His knee catches her in the thigh this time but she refuses to hold him down, to try to restrain him, knowing it will only make things worse. He's already fighting the restraint of the blankets; he doesn't need anything else pinning him down.

She slowly settles her weight by his side, lightly touching. She brings her hand up to his hair and repeatedly runs her fingers though it as she moves her mouth to his ear and whispers to him.

"Jane, it's alright, I'm right here, it's just a dream, I'm right here, you can wake up now, I've got you, shhh, it's alright, you're fine, wake up for me, Jane."

She's not even aware of what she's saying; she just continues whispering a litany of soothing words hoping they'll penetrate the nightmare and that he'll wake up.

She knows it worked when he stops fighting the covers and takes a deep shuddering breath. She moves her mouth from his ear and watches as he opens his eyes slowly, blinking to focus on her face.

Before she knows what's happening, he's kicking the covers off and pulling her on top of him, crushing her against his chest and burying his face against her neck, sobbing silently.

The sweat on his skin and clothes dampen her pyjamas but she holds him tightly anyway, continuing to murmur softly, her nose buried in his hair as he shakes.

After a while he quiets and loosens his grip on her. He places an open mouthed kiss against her neck and whispers 'Thank you', his arms still wrapped around her back.

She slides down his body a bit so she can be face to face with him, trying to ignore the fact that she's now practically straddling him. He doesn't say anything so she ignores the tightening low in her belly.

She almost asks him if he wants to talk about it but stops herself knowing that if their positions were reversed, she would just want to forget about the nightmare, block it out and pretend it never happened.

They lay there for a while, not moving, not talking, just existing. She's half asleep again when she feels Jane shiver underneath her.

He's probably freezing she realizes, the sweat on his skin has dried but his clothes are still damp.

She rolls off of him and tells him she'll be right back.

She crosses into the spare bedroom and starts rummaging through drawers hoping one of her brothers left something else behind that Jane can wear. The drawers are all empty so she heads down to the laundry room thinking maybe she washed something of her bothers and left it down there.

On top of the dryer she finds a pair of boxers and another t-shirt. It'll have to do.

She heads back up the stairs and finds Jane sitting upright in her bed, looking lost. His eyes staring straight ahead, unfocused. She hands him the clothes and shrugs.

"They're clean, don't worry. Why don't you go hop in the shower to warm up, I'll put dry sheets on while you're in there."

He moves mechanically, taking the clothes and heading into the bathroom as she begins stripping the bed.

She remakes the bed and brings the other sheets down to throw in the washer, switching his clothes over to the dryer in the process.

As she heads back upstairs, she's surprised to hear the shower still running. She knocks on the bathroom door and calls his name a few times but doesn't receive any answer. Worried, she tries the doorknob and finds the door unlocked.

She pushes the door open and is greeted by a cloud of steam. The clean clothes sit on the toilet, his others on the floor. The shower curtain is drawn but steam billows out from around it.

"Jane?" She questions, but still receives no answer.

Great, just great. If someone had told her two days ago that she'd be opening her shower curtain on a naked Jane to make sure he was still alive she would have laughed at them. She's not laughing now though, she's actually rather concerned.

She calls his name one last time before sliding the shower curtain open.

She blinks past the steam down into the tub to see Jane hunched over, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. He's still shivering despite the fact that the water is scalding, leaving his back a bright, angry red as it pounds down on him.

She reaches down to the other end of the shower and turns the water back to a reasonable temperature before pulling off her sweat pants and stepping into the shower.

She kneels down in front of him trying to figure out what to do. She doesn't know how to deal with Jane on a normal day. Now that he's naked and in her shower she's at even more of a loss.

She settles for placing her hand in his hair, figuring it's a fairly safe place to touch.

She says his name and this time he looks up, surprised to find her sitting in the shower with him.

She stands up and offers her hand. "Come here, Jane."

She keeps her eyes on his face as he stands, fighting the temptation to look elsewhere. She'd have to be blind to not notice that he's ridiculously good looking and though she would deny it to the grave, she's always wondered what he looked like under his suits. She opens her arms and he steps into them, wet and shivering against her.

She backs them up under the spray of the water, rubbing her hands up and down his back and over his shoulders trying to warm him up.

His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, his head on her shoulder as he leans against her. He's naked, wet, and pressed against her in more places than she should be thinking about right now. Unfortunately once the thought crosses her mind she's incapable of thinking of anything else.

He seems to have gotten as close to her as possible, absorbing her body heat as he clings to her. His head is on her shoulder, nose and lips pressed unmoving against her neck, and his arms wrapped around her waist, crush her chest to his. His hips are pressed tightly against her stomach and she chastises herself for even thinking about what this might be like under different circumstances.

She sends a silent prayer to god when he finally stops shivering and steps awkwardly out of her embrace, seeming to realize for the first time that he's been standing naked and clinging to her for the last 10 minutes.

He mutters an apology but she just smiles. "It's alright Jane, get dried off and put those clothes on, I'm just going to go change."

She walks to her room, grabs her towel and hurriedly dries off, changing into dry pyjamas. She's just climbing into bed when the bathroom door opens and Jane walks out.

He enters the room again and hesitates until she pointedly looks from him to the spot next to her.

She slides closer to him as he gets into the bed and curls back into their position from the first night, his head on her chest and an arm across her waist.

"Sleep, Jane" She whispers.

And he does.

* * *

A/N: There. Hope all you angst lovers enjoyed that. :P

I actually love writing angst, it's a helluva lot easier than figuring out all the case stuff, which is what I'm attempting to do for the next chapter.

Reviews make the world go 'round! :D


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: I had better be receiving many virtual cookies for this chapter. I had the hardest time with it, first trying to figure out all the case stuff and then actually forcing myself to write when my mind was filled with other tv shows.

Big hugs to Yana for letting me bounce ideas off her. This one's for you! :D

* * *

He wakes to an old Beatles song on the radio and the steady rise and fall of Lisbon's chest as she breathes, lungs expanding and contracting with each inhale and exhale.

He's on top of her again, head resting in the valley between her breasts, their legs tangled together. He thinks he might be crushing her but it doesn't seem she minds. She's got one hand against the back of his neck, fingers tangled in the curls at his nape. The other rests against the skin of his lower back, just under his shirt.

He nuzzles closer against the worn cotton of her t-shirt, inhaling her scent and listening to the steady beat of her heart, strong and constant.

"Jane?" She questions sleepily. "What are you doing?"

"Smelling you." He says simply as if it should be obvious.

She rolls her eyes and swats at him. "Alright, get off me Jane; we've got a lot to do today."

He rolls off her and watches as she crosses into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He lays there on the bed, thankful that for the moment she isn't mentioning his nightmare or asking him if he's alright.

* * *

"Alright, so we're operating under the assumption that Red John made a mistake. Question is what caused him to accidentally leave Lyn half alive?" She asks her team as they sit gathered around the break room table.

"Maybe he was interrupted?" Van Pelt suggests. "I know we've spoken to the motel manager and Herb Pembry, but what about other guests, the maid?"

"Alright, you and Rigsby track them down and question them. Jane, Cho? Any other ideas about who might have caught a glimpse of Red John?"

"Say Lisbon, do you have any idea what day garbage collection is up there?" He questions.

"Friday, same day as the murders. Why?"

"I was just thinking of anyone else that may have been in the area with the opportunity to see him. You should find out who collected garbage that day, they may have seen something helpful."

"Cho if you could find that out, we'll be stopping by the hospital quickly, give me a call when you've got a name and we'll meet you there."

Cho nods and heads back to his desk, immediately picking up the phone.

"Any reason we're heading back to the hospital, Lisbon?" He asks.

"I just figured you'd want to see her again before we head up north. The doctor did say she could use the company even though she's unconscious."

He leans out of his chair and into her personal space, giving her a quick, impulsive hug.

"Thank you."

He doesn't elaborate but he hopes she understands that he's thanking her for more than just the visit to the hospital.

She nods, holding his gaze for a moment. "Any time Jane, you know that."

* * *

Their time at the hospital is spent mostly in silence, neither talking much other than to exchange a few quick words with the doctor.

It's a comfortable silence though, one filled with the steady beeping of machines and the unintentionally synchronized breathing of the three people in the room.

He finds it's a welcome relief from the pointless, monotonous conversations that usually fill silences such as this.

Eventually Cho calls and they leave, both pressing silent kisses to Lyn's forehead as they go.

* * *

They pull up behind the stopped garbage truck and get out of the SUV. Cho asks the guy on the back to hop down and waves him over while she and Jane head over to the driver's door.

She knocks on the door and he rolls down the window grinning at her. "Well ain't you just a pretty lil' thang." He drawls.

She hears Jane chuckle behind her and rolls her eyes, reaching for her badge.

"Dan Walker? CBI. Would you mind turning off your engine and getting out the truck? We need to ask you and your partner a few questions."

They step back from the door, and Jane eyes Dan Walker's shirt as he slides out of the truck.

It's a white tee stretch tightly across a beer gut that would put Santa Clause to shame. In the center reads 'Everything is bigger in Texas'.

Jane grins. "From Texas by any chance, Mister Walker?"

"Born n' bred." He confirms proudly, patting his gut.

"An it's true what they say, y'know?" He says, addressing Lisbon.

"And what would that be Mister Walker?" Lisbon asks.

"Everything –IS- bigger in Texas, if y'know what I mean?" He grins at Lisbon, winking suggestively, his gut jiggling as he chuckles.

She's saved from having to respond when Cho walks up with Marty Williams.

"Do you two remember picking up garbage at the Pine Grove Motel on Friday?" Lisbon asks.

Dan just shrugs. "All I do is drive the damn thing, when it's stopped I've got my Archie comics to keep me entertained, plus some magazines of the, shall we say risqué variety."

He winks at Lisbon again and she rubs the bridge of her nose trying to fight off an impending headache.

"So you didn't see anything out of the ordinary at the motel? No unusual people, trucks, vans, cars?"

Dan just shrugs again. "Fraid not."

Jane nods. "Alright, you're free to go."

Dan walks back to his the garbage truck and Lisbon turns to Jane, frowning. "Jane, you can't just dismiss people like that, we've been over this a hundred times." She grumbles quietly.

"Why not? Clearly he didn't see anything. He was probably too busy..." He leans closer to her and whispers in her ear. "Doing something risqué."

A shiver runs down her spine and she's not sure if it was caused by Jane's warm breath against her ear or the disturbing mental image of Dan Walker doing something... risqué.

Whatever the reason, she pushes it to the back of her mind and turns to Marty Williams.

"How about you Mister Williams, do you remember picking up garbage at the Pine Grove Motel on Friday?"

He nods. "I do, beautiful place, shame it isn't better taken care of. I always remember it, place produces tons of garbage for such a quiet motel."

Jane speaks up. "What about people, did you see anyone around when you were picking up garbage?"

"Well I didn't see any actual faces but I did see a truck pulling in. Struck me as kinda odd. I mean it was only 7am. Check out's not till 11 and check in isn't till 3 in most of these places. I didn't get a licence plate though, don't actually remember seeing one."

"Would you be able to describe the truck for us? Even colour and model would be helpful." Lisbon says.

"I can do more than that. I'm a bit of a car buff. See Dan there likes his alone time at least a couple stops a shift so I usually stand out here, light up a cigarette and car watch. Been doing it for 20 years. Truck I saw was a Black Ford, F-350 Super Cab."

He pauses to light a cigarette and Cho pulls out a pad of paper.

"4 doors, 4x4. Looked like an 8 foot box, had a camper shell on it too. Double rear wheels and a chrome bumper and grille. Beautiful truck, but not that out of the ordinary. Although, the engine was definitely diesel, not your standard diesel engine though. Now that I think about it, it sounded a lot like Ford's new diesel engine, although I have no idea how someone would get their hands on it, it's not supposed to be available for sale until 2011. It's a 6.7L, V-8, compacted graphite iron, aluminum cylinder heads, they call it the Scorpion."

Marty is practically salivating and when Lisbon turns to look at Jane, he seems to be as well, though she expects it has more to do with finally having a possible lead.

Lisbon hands Marty her card and they thank him, telling him to call if he remembers anything else.

The drive back to the CBI headquarters is silent. Cho is sitting in the back seat reading his book and as Lisbon concentrates on safely navigating them through rush hour traffic she can feel waves of apprehension and excitement rolling off Jane as he sits like a statue in the passenger seat next to her.

She watches out the corner of her eye as the sun sets, casting alternating rays of light and shadow across the plains of his face.

And as the realization that they might finally have a chance to catch Red John sinks in, coinciding with the fall of night, as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving the sky a smear of pinks and purples, she decides that she and Jane are going to have to talk about what happens when they find Red John.

* * *

A/N: *is dead* This one took a lot out of me for some reason. Probably because I had to –actually- do research. I am not a car person. Other than how to drive them, I know next to nothing about cars. But what do I do? I go and chose a path that revolves around identifying a truck by sight and sound.

I know I've been spoiling you lately with a chapter every day but I'm officially out of back up chapters so depending on how much time I have, there maybe a little bit longer of a wait between them.

Reviews = Productivity on my behalf?

Hey? It's worth a try, isn't it? :P


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Yes. I'm spoiling you yet again. Eight chapters now in as many days. Enjoy!

* * *

They arrive back at the CBI headquarters just as Van Pelt and Rigsby are pulling up. It's dark out now. The days are getting shorter and shorter as autumn moves transforms into winter. The nights longer, bringing with them an eerie sense of calm; one filled with the tension of events yet unknown, looming on the distant horizon, faint and uncertain.

Once back in the office, Lisbon breaks the silence. "Van Pelt, Rigsby, any luck?"

"Some, boss. Guests don't remember anything out of the ordinary, but the maid on duty remembered something strange." Rigsby says, nodding to Van Pelt to continue.

"She was supposed to clean the room where the girls were found that Friday, but she when she went to unlock the door, the chain was latched. She just figured that the motel had accidentally mixed up the bookings, so she moved onto the next room. That was late in the evening, only an hour or so before we got the call. Her interruption is probably why Lyn is still alive." Van Pelt concludes.

"Good work, you two. We've got a possible lead on Red Johns vehicle. Van Pelt, I want you to go book flights for as early as you can get them tomorrow morning, Jane and I are going north, you and Rigsby will be going east." Lisbon says, pausing as Van Pelt hurries back to her desk.

"Rigsby, finish writing up today's paperwork and then the two of you head home and get some sleep. Cho, head home now and get a good night's rest, I expect you here first thing tomorrow following up on that lead with the truck. Check with the motel for registered vehicles of guests and then get started on tracking down that engine. And Cho, I want you stopping by the hospital morning and night to check in with the doctors and the security on the room. Call me if anything happens."

She watches for a moment as they all go about their business before she turns and heads into her office. As she passes Jane on the couch, he seems to be sleeping but she's gotten to know him well enough in the last couple days to know that it's just an act.

She sits down at her desk, searching through her drawers for her bottle of Tylenol. She's had a headache since questioning the garbage truck driver and to make matters worse, that time of the month has arrived and she's now dealing with cramps, muscles contracting painfully.

When she finally finds the bottle it's empty and she groans, silently cursing the world for being out to get her.

She's finishing up paperwork and gathering what she needs for the morning when Jane pops his head into her office.

"Any chance you have the makings of a good bowl of spaghetti at home, Lisbon?" He questions, grinning broadly.

"I think so, why?" She replies, not even looking up from her paperwork.

"Because I'm making dinner for you my dear Lisbon."

At the mention of dinner, her stomach growls loudly, reminding her that she skipped lunch today.

"I guess I could allow that." She says, gathering the files she needs and shrugging into her jacket.

On the way to the SUV Jane makes a detour to his car and comes back with a small carry on. He sits it in the back seat and she finds that she's not at all surprised by the fact that he keeps a suitcase in his car. It does however answer her question as to how he's always got a fresh suit on when she knows for a fact that he stays at the office some nights.

When they get to her place she immediately heads up to the bathroom, swallowing a couple of extra strength Tylenol and changing into sweats.

By the time she comes back down to the kitchen he's already got dinner started and when she tries to help, he shushes her and sends her to sit on the couch.

She huffs, unaccustomed to being bossed around in her own home. Secretly though, she's thankful for the chance to sit down and let someone else do the work.

She stretches in an attempt to relieve the cramps that currently feel as though someone is gutting her uterus like a pumpkin. It doesn't help much though and she groans.

Jane eyes her curiously and she forces a smile, hoping the Tylenol will kick in soon.

She's lazing sleepily when he brings her dinner and they sit on the couch in companionable silence while they eat. When she finishes, he takes their plates and brings them back to the kitchen.

She listens to him in the kitchen, water running and pots and pans clanging as he cleans up.

When he comes back to the couch, he sits down, legs stretched out along its length, back against the arm rest.

"Come here Lisbon."

She eyes him warily and grumbles a long drawn out. "Jaaaane. I'm really not in the mood for one of your games."

He raises his hands in gesture of mock surrender. "No games, I promise."

He widens his legs and motions to the spot in front of him. Reluctantly she shifts over to sit between his legs.

"Relax." He says, taking her shoulders and gently pulling her back to rest against his chest.

She relaxes slowly, still unsure of what he's planning.

Suddenly his hands are on her stomach, sliding down to dip under the hem of her shirt.

"Jane." She cautions, muscles tensing. "What do you think you're doing?"

He chuckles. "Nothing of that sort Lisbon, no need to fret. You've got cramps; I'm going to help you get rid of them." He says against her hair, warm hands splayed against her lower abdomen, thumbs brushing against her hip bones with every gentle press of his fingers.

"How'd you-" She starts to ask but just ends up shaking her head and relaxing back into his warmth. Of course he knows, its Jane after all.

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into an hour and before she knows it the cramps are gone, fading into oblivion at the warm touch of Jane's hands.

Slowly she twists to face him, still held snugly in his embrace.

"Jane, we need to talk, clear some things up."

He nods. "I know." His grin is gone, a sombre look taking its place. "Tomorrow though, for now let's just sleep."

"Fine, but we're not putting it off forever, Jane."

She feels him nod again as he slides his body down the couch so his head can lie against the arm rest. Her body slides along with his and she ends up reclining on top of him, head pillowed against his chest.

He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch to cover them and sets the alarm on his cell phone for the next morning.

His arms wrap around her back and she tangles their legs together, wondering how in just two days they've managed to become so comfortable with each other.

* * *

A/N: I really am too good to you guys. :D

There probably won't be any updates this weekend, as I'm going to be pretty busy. I should have one up by Monday though.

Reviews are like ... *ponders* ... Ah hell, just leave a review. :P


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: :O I know I said I wouldn't be posting this weekend but my brain seems to have other ideas.

You might also notice that the rating has been changed to M. It's not quite M in my opinion, but I figured better safe than sorry.

It's not every long but this is for all of you that have been complaining that I'm a tease. I know it's unfair that I stick them in situations with so much potential for smut and then make them behave, but I'm in no great hurry to have them up against walls, so to speak. I just don't think it would be realistic for the characters. You will however start to see their boundaries slipping.

Enjoy!

* * *

It's still dark when she wakes and it takes her a moment to remember that they fell asleep on the couch.

She's underneath Jane again, pinned comfortably by his weight. She's starting to think that he shifts them like this so he can be sure that she'll still be there in the morning.

As her brain clears she starts to take account of individual details. His cheek pressed against hers, rough and unshaven. His arms tucked underneath her back, holding her to him even as his chest presses down against hers. Her arms around him, both hands tucked under his dress shirt for warmth.

Her legs are spread, one bent up against the back of the couch, the other stretched to tangle with his. His hips are cradled by hers and he's pressed snugly against her, warm and rock hard.

She blinks a few times with a slight shake of her head.

Whoa, rewind. She thinks, telling her brain to slow down. She re-evaluates and if a slight shift of her hips doesn't confirm that Jane is indeed aroused, then his answering grunt accompanied by his own shifting hips certainly does.

Her first thought is that this will be another conversation that they can add to the growing list of things they need to talk about. Actually, if she's honest with herself, that wasn't her first thought, it was closer to her fourth.

Her first wasn't so much a thought, it was more an involuntary _'Oh god, that's nice.'_ followed quickly by a shuddering rush of heat traveling down her spine to settle between her thighs, an eager response to the hardness pressed there.

The second was a _'Thank god he's still asleep.'_ as she releases the breath she's holding.

And the third was _'Damn, when was the last time I had a man between my legs?_' interrupted by the loud ringing of Jane's cell as it vibrates across the table, teetering on the edge and falling to the ground.

He pulls an arm from underneath her, stretching to silence the fallen cell, a movement which causes him to grind pleasurably against her.

She groans unintentionally and he opens his eyes, lifting his head to look at her.

"Sorry Lisbon. It happens sometimes. Give it a minute and it'll go away." He says with a tilt of his head and a slight shrug of his shoulders, brushing it off as if it's no big deal.

He looks at his phone then and tosses it back on the table. "Telemarketers." He scoffs.

He snuggles back down against her, cheek beside hers, arm sliding under her back.

"Alarm's not set to go off for another hour, go back to sleep." He says, pressing against her again as he gets comfortable.

She bites her lip, fighting another moan and thinks seriously about grabbing her gun and shooting him. He's acting like waking up hard, pressed between her thighs is a regular occurrence. And what does she do? Nothing, she just lays there enjoying it. Hell, she should shoot herself too.

She lies there silently, wide awake as thoughts bounce around her brain, back and forth like ping pong balls.

Her cramps from that evening are replaced by a whole different type of tension, one that leaves her body taut, the need for release dizzying.

"Jane?" She asks, hoping he's still awake. "It's not going-?"

"Down? No." He replies, sheepishly.

"Umm..." She pauses, trying to figure out what to say. "It's kind of distracting."

He chuckles then, turning his head into her neck. "Yeah? Tell me about."

She lies frozen for a moment, stunned as the intimacy of the situation hits her.

"Maybe you should uh ... take care of it?" She suggests, leaving her words wide open to interpretation.

"Probably a good idea, I don't think either of us are going to get back to sleep." He agrees.

She feels him grin against her neck and is entirely unprepared for the quick thrust he presses against her. "I'll go do that." He says, placing a kiss behind her ear as he untangles himself from her and stands.

She watches as he grabs his suitcase and heads up the stairs. When she hears the shower start, she presses her fingers into her temples and groans loudly, frustrated as hell and trying to figure out how she's going to keep herself from either jumping or murdering him sometime in the near future.

* * *

A/N: After writing this I realized that it was probably even more of a tease than all those other situations.

Oops? *looks innocent*

I'm going to assume that you know the drill by now? ;D


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: I was going to say 'Vroom Vroom' but I don't really think that's the noise planes make. I'm actually not sure what noise planes make. Oh well.

Anyway, it's 3am here but I've written a chapter for you. Hopefully you'll get a chuckle out of it.

* * *

Their plane is to depart from Sacramento at 6am, connecting in Denver before finally arriving in Sheridan, Wyoming shortly after noon.

As they board the plane he takes the window seat without asking her and she's forced to sit in the middle, squished between him and an older woman that is wearing far too much perfume.

She'd purposely kept the ticket for the window seat to herself and he knows that he's being childish but he can't help it, he loves the faces she makes when she's annoyed.

She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head as she sighs and he just grins back.

The woman beside them takes out her bottle of perfume and gives herself another dosing as the flight attendants go through their pre flight routine. Lisbon wrinkles her nose and sneezes, glaring at him as he hands her a tissue, smirking.

After the plane is in the air and the seat belt signs turn off, she twists to face him, frowning.

"Jane." She warns.

He just grins again and she sits back in her seat mumbling something about hurting him.

He doesn't look out the window once, instead choosing to watch her as she flips through channels on the TV, frustration clouding her features as she loops through a third time with no luck.

Sneezing again, she lifts her hand, discreetly attempting to plug her nose.

He knows they need to have a long talk but he doesn't want to do it on a crowded plane where they can be overheard and will have to censor themselves. When they have this talk, he wants them to be alone, free to say whatever comes to mind at whatever decibel is required.

She rummages through her carry on looking for something to do but only produces a pen and a small notepad.

He watches as she doodles randomly for a while and bites back a laugh when she lets out an unpleased grunt, scribbling furiously against the paper.

She glares at him as he gently grasps her hands, removing the pen and paper, flipping to a fresh page and proceeding to set up a game of hangman.

He listens to her tap her foot impatiently, frustration and annoyance emanating from her in waves.

When he finishes writing out blank spaces for his message, he nudges her with his shoulder and sets the pad of paper between them.

She looks at the paper and then back at him, incredulous.

"Oh come on Lisbon, please? It'll pass the time." He says, grinning wickedly, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Fine." She mutters. "All the vowels."

_ a _ _ / _ o / _ o i _ / _ _ e / _ i _ e / _ i _ _ / _ _ u _?

He fills the blanks in and crosses the vowels off the list, looking at her to continue.

"R, S and T."

_ a _ t / t o / _ o i _ / t _ e / _ i _ e / _ i _ _ / _ _ u _?

He fills in the T's and draws the beginnings of a stick person. "No R or S." He says, crossing the letters off the list.

"H, and..." She's silent for a moment as she thinks, "L, M, N."

_ a n t / t o / _ o i n / t h e / m i l e / h i _ h / _ l u _?

He fills in the blanks, grinning at the confused look on her face.

As soon as he fills in the rest of 'mile' she groans and whacks him in the arm, grabbing the pad of paper. She flips to a blank page, and quickly sketches down 12 lines.

He doesn't guess letters; he just grabs the pen from her and leans over the arm rest to fill in the blanks himself.

_G o t o h e l l J a n e._

He grins proudly, dropping the pen back in her lap.

She rolls her eyes and shoves the pen and paper back into her bag, sneezing yet again as Mrs. Eau de Toilette gets trigger happy with her perfume bottle for a second time.

She looks at her watch and attempts to stifle a yawn. It's still early and the sun is just rising as they fly high above the clouds.

When she sneezes for a fourth time, he finally takes pity on her, lifting the arm rest between them and wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

She stiffens at first but quickly relaxes, leaning into him, turning to bury her face against his neck, breathing deeply and inhaling his scent.

His arm drops to her waist, holding her closely and as she falls asleep she mumbles, "You smell much better than Mrs. Eau de Toilette over there."

Upon hearing this comment, Mrs. Eau de Toilette lifts her gaze from her book, beady eyes glaring at Lisbon's sleeping form.

Jane just smirks. "It's true."

* * *

Lisbon is still sound asleep when the seat belt light turns on for their decent into Denver. He's got her upright and buckled by the time she wakes up and he grins at her, running his fingers though her hair to tidy it.

"We're almost in Denver, Sleepyhead."

She grumbles at him and he leans to whisper in her ear.

"It seems Mrs. Eau de Toilette over there has stopped spraying her perfume."

"Wait, how did you?" She pauses trying to figure out how Jane knows the nickname she'd given to their perfume loving seat mate.

"It seems that you talk in your sleep, my dear Lisbon." He teases.

She glances quickly at Mrs. Eau de Toilette and is greeted by her beady eyed stare.

Lisbon reddens and Jane just smiles.

Thankfully when they land in Denver, their perfume spraying friend gets off the plane and they only have to wait for a few others to board before they're heading down the runway, engines rumbling as they become airborne once again.

* * *

A/N: I spent this evening with a few kids and a bunch of childish men. Let's just say it had me itching to write a 'pain in the ass' Jane scene.

Um, yeah, reviews. Can't forget them. They're nice, good, happy making bits of love.


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Hello all! :D Sorry it's taken me so damned long to get something written, but life has been hectic lately. Thank you all for being so patient, here's an extra long one for as a reward. Enjoy!

* * *

Their decent into Sheridan, Wyoming is anything but smooth.

Wind seems to buffet the plane from all directions and she leans over Jane to get a look out the window, unable to see anything as they fly through thick snow clouds.

When the plane finally drops below the cloud cover they can't be more than a couple hundred feet from the ground; rattling over tree tops, the engines fighting to keep them steady.

The plane hits the runway with a bone jarring thud, bouncing and skidding across the snow covered pavement.

As they come to stop, she looks out the window again; wind blowing, gusts of snow rolling across the flat plains of the runway, swirling and changing direction as they collide with opposing squalls, leaving only vague impressions of the trees and buildings in the distance.

She feels as if she's looking in on a snow globe that's been tossed about, unable to decipher up from down and left from right.

Jane presses his mouth to her ear and whispers. "I hope you remembered your long johns, Lisbon."

The combination of his breath, hot against the shell of her ear and the cold glass of the window pressed against her palm leave her shivering, both for entirely different reasons.

When the plane finally connects to the airport, they grab their carryons and head straight to the car rentals.

She goes about renting something big with four wheel drive while Jane fiddles with brochures, opening them up only to put them back in the wrong spot seconds later. By the time she walks over to him, keys in hand, he's got the entire brochure stand shuffled and rearranged by colour.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a quick tap on the shoulder. He spins, turning to follow her out into the cold.

It takes them nearly ten minutes to remove the snow and ice from the truck. Jane insists on sitting in the cab while she does the work but she chucks a second ice scraper at him, threatening him with bodily harm if he doesn't 'get off his ass and help.'

By the time they get back into the relative warmth of the truck, the snow is falling harder, blanketing the windshield with each moment they sit stationary.

Their connecting flight from Denver had been delayed by over two hours and it's now late afternoon. The sun is invisible behind the clouds but is clearly setting as the bright white world turns grey, visibility near gone as gusts of snow wrap around the truck.

She rubs her hands together for warmth as she unfolds a map. It's only a twenty minute drive south to Big Horn but with this snow she's beginning to think it might be better to find a hotel and stay put.

The truck moves along at a crawl and the ten minutes it takes them to reach the outskirts of town convince her it would be best to turn around and find a place to stay.

Pulling into an empty driveway she turns to Jane.

"See anywhere to stay back in town?" She asks.

"There was a Days Inn just a ways back." He replies, head still facing the window, gaze fixed on the swirling snow beyond the shelter of the cab.

She places a hand on his forearm, drawing his eyes away from the snow, to meet hers.

"You know we need to talk, right Jane? We can't just keep putting it off forever."

He nods, sullen and resigned to the fact that she's not going to let him avoid this. He's not entirely sure what 'this' is, but at the moment it seems to be a whole mess of things, ranging from what happens when they catch Red John, to him being pressed oh so intimately against her this morning.

She looks at him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she moves her hand back to the gear shift, reversing and heading back into town.

* * *

One hour, a couple hamburgers, and two adjoining rooms later, they're finally out of the cold and getting settled.

She swaps her work clothes for something more comfortable, pulling on a second pair of thick socks and cranking up the heat in her room.

She unlocks and opens her side of their adjoining doors and moves to sit on her bed, propping pillows up against the headboard and leaning back. A quick look at the weather channel confirms that the snow is supposed to die down over night so they'll be back on schedule tomorrow morning.

She makes a quick call to Van Pelt to make sure they arrived all right, bidding her and Rigsby good night after a quick conversation.

Just as she's about to dial Cho's number, her display lights up, cell ringing. She can't help but smile. Cho's reliability helps to make up for some the calamity Jane brings to her life.

She's saying goodnight to Cho and closing her phone when Jane peaks his head through the doorway between their rooms. She waves him in and he comes to sit on the end of the bed by her feet.

He's facing her, but his gaze is on her feet and the fuzzy red and white striped socks that adorn them. She wiggles her toes and watches as the corners of his lips curve into a slight smile.

She doesn't understand how they can be so relaxed around each other when everything they need to discuss sits just to the side; a giant pink elephant in the room, impossible to ignore.

They sit silently, neither lifting their eyes nor speaking a word. The air is heavy, burdened with words to be said, situations to be discussed, and problems to be solved.

She knows that they're on the cusp, on the edge of a proverbial cliff. One sentence, one push, and they'll be over the edge, falling fast with only each other to hold onto. She's not sure what's been happening between them the last few days, but she's finding that she enjoys it, that she's reluctant to let it slip away, fade into nothingness. She's not sure when exactly it happened but she's come to care for him, more than she ever should have allowed herself to. Her happiness, her life have become entangled in his, twisted and knotted so tightly that she doubts it possible to unravel the mess. Even if she could, she imagines they'd both be left bent out of shape and full of kinks.

She's about to break the silence when he speaks.

"I meant what I said before, Lisbon. When we find Red John, I'm going to cut him open and watch him die slowly." He says unhurriedly, clearly enunciating every word.

"Damn it, Jane." She curses tiredly, fingers rubbing her temples. She pauses for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Lisb-" He starts.

"Just shut up, Jane. Let me say this."

She runs her hand through her hair, sighing. Before her position was clear; no one deserves murder, no vengeance, obey and uphold the law. Now the murder of those little girls has left her view point shaken, sitting atop a wobbling pedestal, swaying more with each night she lets Jane into her bed. If she can't stop him, she doesn't know if she'll be capable of arresting him.

"You'll go to jail, Jane." She points out the obvious.

"I know." He nods.

She sighs. "So you're content to spend the rest of your life in a cell, then? Don't give a damn about yourself, do you?"

He just shrugs and she has to fight the urge to either bang her head against a wall or beat him into submission, instead she settles for letting out a frustrated groan.

"You don't give a damn about the rest of us either, do you? I thought maybe, just maybe I'd gotten through to you a little bit down in that cellar. I don't know why you can't see it, but we care about you, Jane. We need you. Hell, I'll make it clearer for you. I-" she points to herself "care about you. I need you. So grow up, Jane. We're going to catch Red John and he's going to rot in jail for the rest of his miserable life."

She watches a myriad of emotions play across his features, finally settling on a look of pure anguish. She feels her own eyes dampen as he squeezes his shut, tears leaking slowly down his cheeks to bead in the few day old growth along his jaw line.

A lump forms in her throat when he sniffs and swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. She's unaware of her own movement until she finds herself sitting at his side, hand coming up to cradle his head against her shoulder, his stubbled cheek rough against her neck.

They sit in silence for a minute, breathing deeply, eyes closed, before he leans back and speaks.

"You don't understand. How could you? I can't live, I can't move on. Not while he's still alive." His voice is low, full of sadness and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"He'll be on death row, Jane. He'll be executed by the state."

"Do you have any idea how few people have actually be executed by the state of California since capital punishment was reinstated in 1976? I grand total of thirteen. There are nearly 700 on death row."

She sighs, weighing her options, as she makes tallies in her mind.

"This is the best I can promise, Jane. When we catch him, if I get any legitimate excuse, I'll shoot to kill. It won't be slow or painful, and it won't be by your hand. It will be quick and it will be by the law, but he'll be dead."

She watches as he nods, seeming to accept this.

"In return, can you promise to at least -try- not to do anything stupid?" She asks, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

He returns her slight smile. "I'll try."

They sit there for a moment, studying each other, until suddenly he's grabbing her hand and pulling her up off the bed.

"Let's go play in the snow." He says, grinning excitedly.

She rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Jane? You want us to go outside and freeze?"

He nods enthusiastically, tugging on her hand and dragging her toward the chair where her coat was tossed earlier.

"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even let you beat me at a snowball fight." He says, smirking, eyes bright.

"You'll let me, will you?" She raises an eyebrow, dropping his hand and shrugging into her coat. He disappears back into his room as she's putting on her boots but returns within moments, tuque on his head, another in hand which he places on her head, pulling it down snugly to cover her ears.

He smiles down at her and she just shakes her head at the strangeness of the situation. Less than five minutes ago they were having a serious conversation, now they're dressed up and headed out to play in the snow.

He opens the sliding glass doors and they step out into the snow. The street lights mark the cloudy sky with a yellowy haze, brightening their surroundings as light reflects off endless snowy white surfaces. Snow falls heavily, blanketing the ground in layer after layer. The wind has died down but the occasional gust still blows, sending the snow on the ground upwards to dance lazily with that falling from the sky, a gentle spiral, momentarily suspended in mid air before descending slowly to settle upon the ground once again.

She stands there mesmerized, taking in the beauty surrounding her when suddenly her neck is freezing, a handful of snow melting down her back.

She spins to face Jane, watching as he attempts to look innocent.

"You're so going down, Jane." She grumbles, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Before he even has a chance to run, she's bending down, gathering a snowball and hurling it at him, nailing him square in the chest. He turns to run and the next hits him in the back of the head.

"I grew up with three brothers, Jane." She calls. "Don't even think for a second that I'm gonna go easy on you."

She laughs when he ducks behind a pine for shelter and she takes the opportunity to put her plan into action.

She crouches at the back of the truck and when he's busy gathering ammunition she makes the move from tree to tree. She knows he'll be able to see her footprints in the snow when he looks up but that's all part of her plan.

She's directly behind him when he stands up and peers around the tree.

When he doesn't see her, he calls out her name, questioningly. "Lisbon?"

She watches as he turns his head, following the wide arc of her footprints. When he finally turns to face her, she's only a foot from him, grinning broadly.

"Hi." She says, proceeding to shove the first large handful of snow down the front of his coat, the second down the back.

She stands back and watches as he squirms, frantically attempting to shake the snow out of his clothes. When he finally stops moving, he's out of breath and his cheeks are an adorable rosy red.

She's got another couple handfuls ready for her next attack but he raises his hands in surrender.

"Enough! Enough! You win!" He yells, attempting to fend off the handfuls of snow that she's approaching with.

She doesn't appear to be accepting his surrender so he does the only thing he can think of, he bends, grabs her around the waist and hoists her over his shoulder.

She squeals, a high pitched, musical note that he never would have guessed she was capable of making.

He's mentally congratulating himself on his clever manoeuvre when she shoves her remaining handful of snow in the only place she can reach; directly down the back of his pants.

He lets out an inhuman yelp, letting go of her and trying desperately to scoop the snow out of his pants.

She's on her own two feet now, but is trying her best to restrain his arms, wrestling awkwardly with him as he curses.

He finally gives up and she's laughing hysterically at the look on his face when they back up onto an unnoticed patch of ice.

Before either of them has a chance to right themselves they've both collapsed into a heap, their attempts to hold onto each other landing them in a tangle of limbs.

He's on his back in the snow and she's on top of him straddling his hips, arms holding her up off his chest.

"You alright?" She asks, looking down at him.

He nods, beaming at her, his eyes full of laughter. It's a real smile, one that she rarely sees.

As she looks at him, it dawns on her that this is probably the happiest she's ever seen him, and before she can stop herself, she's leaning down, bringing her mouth closer to his.

She stops an inch from his lips, looking into his eyes, wanting him to make the final decision.

His hand on the back of her neck, gently pulling her down is all the encouragement she needs and she lets their lips meet. It's soft and unhurried, just the gentle brushing of mouths, lips slightly parted as their breaths mingle.

His hands run lazy trails up and down her spine and she barely notices the cold when he tucks them under her jacket exposing her lower back. She shifts against him to change the angle of their kiss and inadvertently moves against his hips. He hums low against her lips, the vibrations making her smile.

He breaks the kiss, ducking his head beneath her jaw and pressing his lips lightly to her skin as he hums again, lifting his hips against hers.

She moans and is returning the gentle pressure against his hips when a car door slams and someone yells, "Get a room! For god's sake, you're right next to a fucking hotel!"

She feels Jane tense and can't help but laugh at the situation, burying her face against his chest to stifle her giggles.

"Something funny, Lisbon?" He questions with a smirk on his face.

"No. Well, yes. This. Us. Well, not us, but the situation. God, Jane. We're practically dry humping in a snow bank." Her own blunt words send her into another fit of giggles as she imagines what they must look like.

When she finally stops laughing, she stands, offering her hand to help him up. Now that the adrenaline has worn off she's tired and cold.

"Let's go get out of these clothes." She says, pausing when he raises an eyebrow. "And get into some dry ones I mean."

If her cheeks weren't already red from the cold, she'd be blushing furiously right now.

He just tugs her to him, enveloping her in a quick hug. "How do you feel about Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Lisbon?"

* * *

A/N: Usually I try to come up with something clever to say here, but I think I'm all out of words.

You know the drill. :D


	12. Chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: I'm back. Finally. Life has been a mess the last month. My grandpa passed away about a week before Christmas, and with the funeral, staying with my grandma, and still trying to make Christmas happen, I haven't had the time or the will to write.

A big thanks to Yana for being so amazing through all of it and finally convincing me to get back to this fic. This one is for you, my dear. *hugs*

Enjoy!

* * *

He wakes to find the TV still on, an early morning infomercial playing on low volume in the cozy room. As he shuts it off, his gaze is drawn to the glass door, the curtains are still pulled to the side and the sky is painted the purple-grey of approaching dawn, the snow glitters in the still morning air, the previous days wind completely gone. A freezing fog must have passed through in the night, for every surface is frosted, coated in sparkling white ice.

They'd come in from the cold last night, quickly changing into pyjamas before crawling into Lisbon's bed to watch Rudolph. They hadn't kissed again or spoken a word, merely arranged pillows and sat side by side, leaning against the head board.

They must have fallen asleep at some point, as he doesn't remember watching the end of the movie.

Now in the early morning light, she snuggles against him in an over-sized flannel shirt, her head tucked under his chin, hands fisted in the material of his t-shirt, a leg thrown over his hip as she practically rests on top of him.

He presses his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply as he trails his hands up and down her spine, tracing idle patterns with his fingers in an attempt to wake her.

She hums and stretches against him. "Go back to sleep, Jane." She mumbles, nuzzling against his chest.

He grins broadly and trails his hands down to the bottom of her flannel shirt, running his fingers along the hem before tip toeing them underneath, up her thigh, over her hip, and back and forth to zigzag across her ribs.

She squirms when he does this, obviously ticklish, and he grins, filing this new found knowledge away for later.

He moves his fingers back to her spine, following its path up to the back of her neck, her shirt sliding up as his fingers travel north. He stops at the nape of her neck and his fingers dance lightly there before beginning their descent downwards, spiraling and snaking their way around each of her vertebrae.

He stops when he reaches the elastic of her panties, wondering just how much he can get away with.

Feeling daring, he's about to dip his fingers below the elastic when he hears her voice.

"Jane." It's a mixture of a warning and a chuckle, and he freezes, fingers abruptly halting their exploration as he's caught red-handed.

She lifts her head from his chest and looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

He looks guilty, a sheepish smile forming on his lips and she can't help but laugh.

She places a quick peck on his lips and slides off him, his hands falling from her lower back as she moves.

"Maybe later, Jane. We have work to do right now." She says as she grabs a change of clothes and shuts the bathroom door behind her.

* * *

An hour later, they're in the truck, and on their way to Big Horn. It's only 8am but she figures an early start is necessary with the 11 hours it'll take them to drive north to Whitefish, Montana.

She had tried to book them a flight, but due to another storm in the forecast and the lack of people actually wanting to fly out of Sheridan, the Sheridan County Airport had ceased all incoming and outgoing flights for the next two days.

Jane fiddles with the radio, constantly switching it from station to station, as she maneuvers along the snow covered roads.

It's annoying but she ignores it, glad that he seems to be in a better mood. He still hasn't shaved, she notices, removing a hand from the wheel and reaching over to run her knuckles along the scruff on his jaw.

"Lose your razor, Jane?" She asks, looking forward again, a slight smile on her face.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as he rubs his own hand along his jaw. "Of course not, I just figured that with the cold weather, it would be nice to have the extra warmth." He turns to her, grinning. "In fact, I could ask you the same question, my dear. I'd estimate you haven't shaved your legs in the last week or so."

She elbows him in the arm and he returns to fiddling with the radio, pouting for the remainder of the short drive to Big Horn.

Pulling into a small parking lot, she looks up at the equally minuscule child services building. Getting out of the truck, they stumble through the two feet of snow covering what once was a pathway to the front door. Thankfully the front door opens inward and they step quickly into the warm building.

The secretary greets them and they ask to speak to Carroll Matthews. As the secretary gets up, they hear a clattering of dishes and a bunch of kids giggling.

The secretary excuses herself quickly, motioning to a table with the makings of a cup of tea, telling them to help themselves and that she'll send Carroll out this way as soon as she can.

Lisbon sits on the small sofa, watching as Jane prepares a cup of tea for himself before joining her. The couch dips when he sits and she unconsciously leans inward, their arms pressing together.

Its a few minutes until the noise in the kitchen subsides and they see a harried young woman rushing out to greet them with a baby in her arms. She's carefully balancing a bottle in her hand and Lisbon reaches out to grab it before it can slide to the ground.

"Carroll Matthews?" Lisbon asks

Carroll nods, nearly out of breath. "That would be me, sorry for the wait, breakfast time is always chaotic around here." She moves to sit down and seems to remember something, because she immediately stands up again.

"Would you mind taking him? The bottle is warm, just pop it in his mouth, he won't make a fuss." She says handing the baby to Jane before he even has a chance to reply. She rushes off into an adjoining office and they listen to her open and close drawers, shuffling papers around.

Lisbon watches as Jane situates the baby in his arms, and she hands the bottle to him when he reaches for it.

The little guy can't be more than a couple weeks old and Lisbon strokes the top of his head, unbelievably soft peach fuzz tickling her fingers. She can't help but smile as he sucks eagerly on the bottle in Jane's hand.

She sneaks a glance at Jane, and is amazed yet again, by how much he loves children, and how happy they seem to make him despite all that he's lost.

In less than a couple minutes, Jane hands her the empty bottle. She looks at it, surprised.

"I think we have a mini Risgby on our hands here, Lisbon." Jane comments, grinning.

Carroll finally returns to sit across from them just after Jane finishes burping mini Rigsby. She opens the file in front of her, making no move to take the baby back, so Jane lays him carefully against his legs, chuckling as he yawns and is asleep in seconds.

Carroll looks up briefly and smiles. "That kid would sleep through a nuclear bomb as long as he had a meal first."

Lisbon smiles in return and opens her own file, ready to get to work.

"As you know from speaking to agent Cho on the phone the other day, we've unfortunately identified Tamara Andrews as one of our murder victims."

Carroll nods, tears coming to her eyes. "Poor, sweet little girl." She says, accepting the tissue that Lisbon hands to her.

"We just need to ask you a few quick questions, and then we'll be out of your hair, if that's alright, ma'am?" Lisbon asks.

Carroll nods, sniffling. "Of course, anything I can do to help catch the monster that did this."

"Has anyone been interested in adopting or fostering Tamara lately?" Lisbon questions.

"No, unfortunately Tamara had a rare type of immune deficiency, and it's very hard to find anyone willing to take on the care of such a child. We figured that she'd be under our care for quite some time." She replies, dabbing the tissue to her eyes.

"How about the other children? A list of anyone who has made an enquiry here within the last month or so would be very helpful."

Carroll nods. "Give me a moment; I'll get that printed off for you." She says, heading back into the adjoining room.

Lisbon takes the opportunity to turn back to Jane, concerned about how quiet he's been. Usually he's interrupting her every word.

"You alright, Jane?"

She watches as he looks up from the little boy and smiles at her sadly, pausing as he seems to consider his next words.

"It's just been a while since I've held anyone this young. I'd forgotten how much I love it."

He's forgotten a lot of things over the years. Not just after his family was taken from him, but before that. Until this week, he'd forgotten what it was like to share a bed with someone and how good it felt to get a decent night's sleep. He'd forgotten how to drop the facade that at times has been the only thing holding him together. He'd forgotten how to truly smile and laugh; not remembering a time when thoughts of vengeance hadn't plagued his every waking moment.

Lately something has changed though, and he's starting to remember the things that he used to know, love, and need; things that until recently were gathered in a box at the back of his mind, labelled '_Never again._'

He's not sure how long he's been running circles around his own mind, but Lisbon has clearly finished talking about the case with Carroll, instead she's now holding the baby in her arms as Carroll tells her the story about how they came to find him.

Lisbon seems to notice that he's no longer stuck inside his own head and hands the baby to Carroll, letting her know that they need to get going, and to call if she remembers anything that she thinks might be helpful.

* * *

Half an hour later; just minutes after merging onto the I-90, she hears Jane sigh as he shuts off the radio and leans back in his seat.

"Oh, Lisbon?" He asks in that sing-song voice, fiddling with the lid on her empty coffee cup.

"What, Jane?" She replies warily, knowing that voice usually means trouble.

"Let's play 20 questions."

"No."

"Come on, Lisbon. You know you want to."

"Jane."

"Please?"

"Fine. One game."

"What do I get if I win?"

"You get the answer, Jane."

"Oh sure, take all the fun out of it. Alright, I want you to think of your favourite Disney character." He says, grinning.

"Really Jane? Out of all the possibilities, that's what you choose?"

He nods, emphatically.

"Is it an animal?"

"Yes."

"Animated?"

"Yes"

"Male?"

"Yes."

"From a movie before 2000?"

"Could you maybe get one wrong, Jane?" She grumbles.

"Pocahontas?"

"Yes."

"Meeko?"

"No."

"Don't lie Lisbon, it's not very becoming of you. Besides, you're no good at it." He say leaning toward her.

"Fine, it's Meeko. I don't see how that was even fun for you." She says, frowning. "Can we have some peace and quiet now?"

"Of course not. I say we play I spy. I'll start don't worry." He states, twisting and turning to survey his surroundings.

Lisbon sighs, resigned to the fact that she's going to be stuck in this truck with him for the next 10 hours with no choice but to cater to his whims.

"I spy with my little eye, something that is white." He announces, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Seriously, Jane? White?" She asks, incredulous.

"Yes, ma'am."

"It better not be something snow covered, Jane." She says, looking out the window at the endless expanse of snow covered highway surrounding them.

"Of course not my dear, don't you know it's against the rules to choose something outside of the vehicle while it's in motion?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Playing by the rules isn't exactly your MO, Jane."

He just smiles and she takes that as her cue to have a look around the cab.

"Paper?"

"Nope."

"Any of the white writing on the dash?"

"Not even close, my dear."

"The bird crap on the window?"

"That's outside the vehicle. Or at least I hope it is."

"Your shirt?"

"Nope."

"My shirt?"

"Not quite, but very close."

She pauses to take a mental inventory of her clothing.

"My bra? Honestly, Jane? How did you even know that?"

"Well, you're wearing a white shirt; it only makes sense that your bra would be white as well."

She raises an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look.

"I also may have peaked." He says with mock innocence.

"Of course you did." She grumbles, whacking him in the arm.

He feigns hurt and she's almost hoping that he's given up the car games; unfortunately she knows him too well to expect that. As a result she isn't at all surprised when he asks her enthusiastically:

"Truth or dare?"

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed. Hopefully it won't be very long before I have another chapter up. I'm in the mood to write again, so probably within the next couple days.

Hugs for all = reviews for me?


	13. Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Alright, this one is for Chiisana Minako, and her attempts at virtually flogging me in hopes that I'd write faster. xD

Enjoy!

* * *

By the time they arrive in Whitefish and book their adjoining rooms at a local hotel, she's on her last nerve. Ten hours of car games with Jane and his constant attempts to get her to play 'Truth or Dare?' have her on the edge.

Despite this, he's somehow managed to invite himself into her room and is sitting on the end of her bed as she flips through the case file, making additional notes and reminders.

She's about to call Cho for an update when he grabs the phone out of her hand, holding it hostage with a grin on his face.

"Jane." She warns, but he doesn't even seem to hear it. "I'm serious, give it back, I need to make a couple calls."

"Nonsense. The calls can wait. I think what we really need right now is a game of Truth or Dare." His grin widens as he drops her cell into the pocket of his vest.

"Not happening, Jane. Now give me my phone back."

"One game, Lisbon, that's all I ask."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please, with a cherry o-"

She cuts him off, pushing him off the bed as she twists his arms behind his back. She holds them in one hand long enough to retrieve her cell from his pocket, before tightening her grasp and marching him toward the open doorway of his room.

"You are not a five year old, Jane. I suggest you stop acting like it." She says, pushing him into his room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Letting out a deep breath, she shakes her head attempting to rid herself of the frustration he's caused. She needs to call her team and then she needs a hot bath and to pass out until sunrise.

A call to Cho informs her that he's had no luck tracking down the engine. As far as anyone knows, apart from the designers, no one has the access or the knowledge needed to get their hands on such an engine. Cho is trying to meet with each of the designers but they've been difficult to get a hold of. He does however let her know that Lyn seems to be doing much better. She's still in a chemically induced coma, but the doctors are hoping to wake her in a couple of days if all goes well.

Her next call is to Rigsby and Van Pelt. As of yet, they've only talked to children's services in Milledgeville, Georgia about Cassandra Elling. Unfortunately there wasn't much to be learned as the coordinator was a rather unhelpful, middle-aged drunk that seemed more concerned about getting her booze money than the welfare of the children. Van Pelt informs her that they'll be a day behind schedule, as tomorrow they'll be meeting with the local police and the states children's services department to address the care and wellbeing of the children.

* * *

She sinks into too hot water, enjoying its burn against her chilled skin as she drags her fingers though the suds, swirling bubbles that fizz and burst at the slightest contact.

She's exhausted in every way possible, and wants nothing more than to finally get a break on this case. Well, that and possibly a weeks' worth of sleep. Unfortunately, she knows that the likelihood of either of those happening is slim to none.

Shutting off the water, she leans back, submerging herself so that only her face remains peaking through the suds that tickle her cheeks and hiss in her ears.

She almost feels bad for forcing Jane out of her room earlier, but the memory of him pestering her is enough to alleviate any guilt that she might be feeling.

Closing her eyes, she settles deeper into the water, willing her mind to quiet itself so that she might sink into a thoughtless oblivion.

* * *

The water is cold when she wakes to the erratic squeaking of mattress springs and the occasional dull thud of a headboard making contact with the wall.

At first she writes it off as an overzealous couple in a nearby room, but as she steps out of the tub and pulls the plug, allowing the water to drain, she realizes that it's coming from Jane's room.

It takes her a moment to connect the dots, but once she does, she finds herself scrambling to dry off and yank on her pyjamas.

Her guilt returns full force as she unlocks and opens their adjoining door to find Jane tangled in his sheets, fighting hard against their hold.

As she moves silently into the room she gives herself a mental flogging, a berating for leaving him alone to face his demons.

She slides gently into the bed, pressing herself tightly into his side as she moves her mouth to his ear, hand stroking the damp curls at the nape of his neck. She whispers soothingly against his ear, words, sounds, and syllables strung together in a hurried attempt at comfort.

It doesn't seem to be helping though, his breathing has quickened and he's on the verge of hyperventilating, eyes squeezed shut, lashes wet.

She's contemplating shaking him awake or yelling his name when he finally stills, a deep shuddering sob, escaping.

"Jane?" She whispers, smoothing her palm along his cheek.

He shakes his head; eyes still clamped shut, wetness smudged against his cheeks.

"You're dead." He whispers, voice breaking.

She tugs his arm, shifting him so that he's facing her. "Open your eyes, Jane. I'm right here."

She watches him as he slowly opens his eyes, pupils shifting as he focuses on her face. He looks at her for a moment before moving his head to her chest and enveloping her in a crushing hug.

He listens to her heart beat out a steady rhythm against his ear as he moves a hand up to her neck, feeling her pulse thrum against his finger tips. His fingers trail along her clavicle, over her shoulder and spiral down to brush the sensitive skin at the crook of her elbow, inching their way down her forearm to her wrist, lightly tracing veins and tendons through her skin.

She lies still, allowing his fingers to confirm that she is indeed very much alive, her own fingers still threading lightly through his curls.

He finishes tracing out patterns along her palm and extended fingers, his touch just firm enough not to tickle. His hand ghosts back up to her shoulder, only to drop once again along her side, barely brushing the edge of her breast as his fingers dance over her ribs, then the curve of her waist, to settle into a slow rhythm against her flannel covered hip bone.

Slowly his fingers slide down her thigh to the bottom of her flannel shirt. And as his fingers move north again, the hem of her shirt travels with them. He drops the shirt mid waist and his fingers creep underneath, his palm smoothing over her stomach, knuckles just barely brushing the underside of her breast.

A tip toe up her sternum and a large circle around her breast, just barely touching, has her wondering if maybe she should stop him.

All thoughts, those of stopping or otherwise flee her mind as his hand moves to cup her breast, fingers circling her nipple as he nuzzles against her flannel covered chest.

She inhales sharply as he thumbs her nipple and presses himself hard against her thigh.

Before she knows what's happening, his hand drops and his fingers are sliding underneath the fabric of her panties to cup her heat. She spreads her thighs slightly, arching into his hand and he begins to move, his fingers sliding easily through her wetness.

He strokes her lightly, gently exploring and her eyes fall shut, her hand resting motionless in his hair.

She groans when he dips a finger into her heat, thrusting lightly as he presses himself heavily against her thigh. When he adds a second finger she responds with a muffled 'God, Jane' and he curls his fingers upward, pressing and proceeding to thrust when he feels her tense.

His own thrusts fall in time with that of his fingers and suddenly she's on the edge. Her thighs clamp together and she stills as his thumb brushes over her clit, and then she's falling, fingers and toes numb and tingling as all the blood rushes from them. Her back arches and her muscles spasm, tightening around his fingers, as she feels him thrust one last time against her thigh before tensing.

His head is still on her chest, listening to her heart as its beating slows and she hisses as he withdraws his fingers and lays them on her stomach.

She's completely and totally boneless and she barely notices as he rolls out of the bed to change. Sleep is weighing heavily on her consciousness and she's finding it hard to keep her eyes open.

She feels the mattress dip as he slides in beside her. He's warm and shirtless and she uses what little energy she has left to curl against his chest, hands running up his stomach to lay against his heart. He presses a kiss against her crown, buries his nose in her hair, and she sleeps.

* * *

A/N: My brain is officially fried.

There is one thing on my mind though, thanks to Yana. :P

If Jane were an animal, what would he be? (Yes, this is a cheap, underhanded ploy to get you to review. xD )


	14. Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: Alrighty, I haven't kept you waiting quite as long this time. ;)

A little bit of the morning after and then the required case stuff.

* * *

Lisbon wakes to early morning sun streaming through the open curtains of her hotel room and is momentarily confused. She's positive that she shut her curtains as soon as she entered her room last night.

It's when Jane nuzzles against the back of her neck, trying to block his own eyes from the sun, that she remembers falling asleep in the bath, waking to the sounds of his nightmare, trying to wake him, his head on her chest, his fingers...

As the rest of the night comes rushing back to her, she groans, shifting to bury her head against the pillow, feeling the lingering dampness between her thighs as she moves.

'What the hell was I thinking?' She asks herself silently, but the only conclusion she comes to is that she was obviously NOT thinking.

Somewhere between trying to convince herself it was all a dream and accepting that it was very much real, she feels Jane's arms snake around her waist to pull her backwards against his body.

She stiffens, her mind still racing, full of consequences and 'what ifs'.

"Morning, Lisbon." He mutters sleepily, voice rumbling as he speaks against her spine.

She shudders involuntarily as his words ghost downward. Turning in his arms, she shifts to face him.

"Umm... I, uh, we..." Is all she manages to get out, a frustrated look overtaking her face as everything she's planned to say, vanishes.

"You're blushing." He states, grinning.

"No I'm not." She argues, trying to bury her head against his chest.

"You most definitely are, my dear." He says as she shakes her head, eyes cast downward.

He tugs her closer and whispers against her ear. "Funny, you weren't blushing last night, flushed maybe, but it certainly wasn't from embarrassment."

He chuckles when she growls against his chest, mumbling something that sounds distinctly like 'Jackass' as she returns his embrace, squeezing him a bit too tightly before rolling out of the bed.

"I'm going to shower. We have to meet with Patricia Hadley in an hour."

"I'll join you." He says, rising to follow her, his arousal evident.

She looks down briefly, blush tingeing her cheeks as she meets his eyes. "Don't push your luck, Jane." She says, shutting the adjoining door behind her.

* * *

When they arrive at the address Cho had given them for the child services building, Lisbon is completely certain that they're at the wrong place. Across from them sits a huge bed and breakfast. It's a wood cabin style chalet, covered in snow and decorated merrily for the upcoming holiday season.

"What was the number again, Jane?" She asks.

"417." He replies, not even bothering to look at the folded piece of paper in his jacket pocket.

"You're serious?"

"Yes, it's all up here," he says tapping his skull "this is the correct place."

"If you say so."

After parking the truck they head up the stone steps to an ornate glass door. Once inside she walks up to reception, Jane trailing along behind her, surveying the large skylight and the many hand crafted paper snowflakes hanging from it.

"Hi, we're with the CBI, I'm Teresa Lisbon, this..." she looks over her shoulder at Jane who still seems to be admiring the paper snowflakes "and that is Patrick Jane. We have a meeting scheduled with Patricia Hadley."

The receptionist smiles, "Of course, she mentioned you. You two will want to take that hall down there," she motions to her right "just knock when you reach the end."

She thanks the receptionist and turns to find that Jane has already made it down the hallway. She jogs to catch up to him and he grins devilishly at her as he knocks on the door.

"Stop looking at me like that, Jane." She says, hands on her hips.

"Like what?" He asks; the picture of innocence.

"I don't know." She grumbles and he grins again. "Like that! Stop it."

"Hmm?"

"Stop looking at me like you want to drag me into an empty room and" she pauses "do indecent things to me. Seriously, Jane, we have work to do."

"Oh? That look? I'll try to behave myself."

She rolls her eyes knowing how unlikely that is to happen. She's elbowing him in the ribs when the door opens and she quickly attempts to compose herself.

"Hi, Patricia Hadley? CBI, ma'am."

"Hello dears, come in, come in. And none of that ma'am nonsense, you're to call me Patty." She says ushering them in.

"Ignore the mess, I had the kids in here earlier, they're off with my right hand Sarah, playing in the snow at the moment. Those kids love the snow, oh yes they do, did you see the snowflakes on the way in?"

Jane nods as he and Lisbon take the seats across from Patty's desk.

"They made those themselves the little dears. I've only got four kids this Christmas so I've been able to spend plenty of quality time with them. You're probably wondering why on earth you're at a bed and breakfast, aren't you?" She asks, smiling as she makes tea.

Lisbon smiles back and nods, finding the woman's enthusiasm to be contagious.

"Well it's quite the story but I suppose you'd like to hear it?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, simply continues on without so much as a breath.

"Well my whole life I've never really worked, I was the house wife to a very well off man. He insisted that I never work a day in my life; I was to be taken care of, cherished. Such nonsense, indeed, but it made him happy. He passed away about 5 years ago, and though I miss the old soul from time to time, it's finally given me the opportunity to live the life I want."

She pauses and hands them each a cup of tea before finally seating herself in her chair.

"You see this bed and breakfast was his master piece, he put all of himself into running it. Even more so after we found out that we couldn't have kids. I'd suggested adoption on multiple occasions but it was something that he didn't believe in. Anyway, when he passed, he left this place to me. All the staff still works here and I barely have to lift a finger to run it, he made sure it would be that way. So I decided to go back to school. Can you imagine? A sixty year old woman going back to school to learn how to look after children. I did some social work and volunteered at various children services locations before deciding that I would convert part of this bed and breakfast into a place where I could foster kids until a suitable family chose to adopt them. Sarah was actually one of my first foster kids, she came to me at 17, she's 22 now and she'll be the one I'm leaving this place to when I pass."

Patty finally stops talking long enough to take a sip of tea and Lisbon seizes what she suspects might be her only chance to speak.

"Not to interrupt ma'a... Patty, but I assume you've spoken with Agent Cho?"

"Oh yes, what a lovely man, he's been calling me every day to update me on Lyn's progress. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that Lyn is alive and slowly getting better."

"Is there anything you remember about the day she disappeared that might be helpful to our investigation?" Lisbon asks.

"Well, I can tell you about the day, I'm not sure if it will be much help though."

Jane leans forward at this point, depositing his empty mug on a coaster and smiling reassuringly.

"Just tell us as much as you remember, Patty." Lisbon coaxes.

"Well there's not much to remember, we were snowed in the entire day. That was actually the day they made the paper snowflakes. We baked some chocolate chip cookies and they all went to bed around 8:30. Next morning she wasn't in her room. The window was locked from the inside and there was nothing on any of our surveillance videos. We had a few guests but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I can get a list of guests and those videos for you when we finish up here."

Lisbon nods, "A list of anyone that's made enquiries about adoptions would be helpful as well."

"Of course, of course. Is there anything else you two dears need?" She asks, starting up her computer and printer.

"I think that will do for now Patty, we're staying in town until tomorrow morning if you remember anything else. After that you can reach us by calling my cell." She says, handing Patty a card with their numbers.

"Oh no, please tell me you're not staying in one of those cookie cutter, chain motels! Dreaded things have no presence, no personality. You'll go pack up your things and stay here for the night." She says, clasping her hands in excitement.

Lisbon is about to reject the offer as politely as possible, when Jane speaks up.

"That sounds lovely, Patty." He agrees, much to Lisbon's chagrin.

"Now I can put you in one of our suites, question is would you like a view of the mountains or the lake?"

Lisbon seems to have been rendered speechless, so Jane chooses for them. "The mountains would be wonderful."

Patty hands Lisbon a couple files and a DVD copy of the surveillance video. "Now you two go pack up your belongings, I'll have that suite and a nice hot lunch ready for you when you get back."

Lisbon takes them wordlessly, standing and turning to walk out the door as Jane guides her, his hand warm against her lower back.

She watches Jane wave and call out a cheery, "See you soon, Patty."

It's not until they make it back out into the cold, that her brain begins to function.

"You're a dead man, Jane."

* * *

A/N: Don't you just love babbling older ladies? xD

*attempts to think of clever way to make people review and fails miserably*

Review? ;)


	15. Chapter 15

DISCLAIMER: The usual not mine, just playing with them spiel.

A/N: I'm back! (After an unforgivable amount of time.) I'd like to start off by apologizing to everyone for abandoning this story with no notice. Life happened. I'd also like to thank everyone that has read, favourited, followed, and commented on this story. You're all amazing!

This isn't a long chapter, but I really wanted to get it updated, so here she is!

I know you're all anxious to get reading so I won't go on any longer. Enjoy!

* * *

As she haphazardly tosses her belongings into her suitcase, she wonders what this suite is going to look like. The first image that comes to mind is ridiculous. She pictures a tacky heart- shaped bed, covered in red silk, the ceiling a collection of mirrors. She snorts at the thought and shakes her head. No, that's not likely, Patty seems like she has better taste than that.

Maybe a large bed, plush and inviting, thick with warm quilts and colourful pillows. That sounds wonderful, she thinks, but instantly scolds herself. She's here to solve a case. Her goal is to catch Red John; end of story. She's not here to enjoy the luxuries of a cozy bed and breakfast, and she's most certainly not here to push the boundaries of her relationship with Jane.

She presses her fingers to her temples in a futile attempt to ward off an imminent migraine. Push. Right. She's fairly certain that after last night's events, they've sped right past pushing and delved full into the realm of driving off cliffs.

She cares for him, far more than she ought to. And he drives her insane. The off the wall, pull your hair out, talk to yourself kind of insane, and god help her she likes it. She likes him. She likes his blue eyes and those ridiculously perfect blonde curls. She likes that stupid smug grin and those childish smiles that somehow have the ability to make her agree to almost anything. She likes that he pushes her buttons and boundaries and makes her think about everything in a different light. She likes that despite every facade and all the arrogant bravado, he lets her in just a little bit, lets her see the pieces, lets her hold onto them and try to fit them back together. She likes him; likes, because using any other word is far too dangerous at this point and she's into self-preservation.

She doesn't notice when he enters her room, leaning casually in the doorway that leads to his room. She doesn't notice that he's watching her as she fiddles with a pair of socks, deep in thought and miles away.

He steps into the room quietly and moves to stand behind her, "Quite the internal monologue you've got going there Lisbon, care to share with the class?" He smiles as she startles and turns to face him. He watches her closely, watches as the uncertainty and vulnerability quickly slip away, easily replaced by a slight frown.

"What's wrong, Jane? Having trouble reading me?" She jokes, trying to slip her own mask back into place.

Oh he read her just fine. He noticed the slightest hint of a smile hidden behind a mountain of doubt. Both of which he suspects are due largely to his behaviour the night before.

He's not sure exactly why he did what he did. _You wanted to make sure she was alive_, part of his brain offers. _Yes, because clearly finger banging her while you dry humped your way to an orgasm was the best way to accomplish that, _the other half of his brain retorts, crudely.

He sighs and decides that apparently he isn't quite ready to have this conversation yet either.

Instead, he just moves to zip up her suit case and decides that for the time being it's safer to stick to flippant comments. He knows how to deal with an irritated Lisbon. That he can do.

"C'mon Lisbon, let's go check out this honeymoon suite that Patty has for us!"

* * *

She drives along the freshly ploughed road and watches as each gust of wind tosses powdery snow into her path, only to sweep it away seconds later. It's there, and then it's gone, for the most part anyway. Lingering traces remain: traces that though at first are nearly indiscernible, soon build and suddenly the only evidence that a plough passed through are the asphalt stained snow banks that line the road.

In some strange way it reminds her of Jane.

The slate is wiped clean, there's no evidence that he's anything less than perfectly fine. He jokes and smiles, tossing witty banter and infuriating remarks her way. But the pain builds. The loss adds up. And she can see it. It isn't obvious. He puts on a good show. But it's there in the little things. It's there in the way that he can't stand silence. It eats at him, she thinks: leaves him alone with his thoughts in a very dark place.

She's also notices that he watches her. She has no idea what's going through his head but she can feel his eyes following her: at times analyzing her, but mostly just quick glances. Maybe he's just making sure that she's still there.

She watches him too, watches the smile slowly fade. She watches the guilt and bone-deep weariness seep back in. Water in the fractures of his facade, eroding slowly until it splits and she can see him for what he really is: broken. There's no other way to put it.

She sighs as she pulls into a parking spot at the bed and breakfast.

Jane hasn't spoken a word the entire drive and as soon as she shifts into park, he's pulling on his toque and heading straight for the front door.

The man drives her insane. She never knows what to expect from him. He's all over the place. Entirely unpredictable.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, and as she grabs both of their bags from the back, she wishes that he wasn't such a mystery.

She's sure of very little when it comes to Jane, but she knows that giving up on him isn't an option. Not anymore. She's in this, whatever _this_ is, and she's going to see it through.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully my writing hasn't deteriorated too much over the years. I haven't written anything other than essays and research reports in a very very long time.

I'd like to apologize yet again for my unacceptably long absence. And thank you again, so very much to everyone who has followed this story.

I'll be away for the weekend, but look for an update sometime next week!

3


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